


In which dinner is prepared—or at least started.

by sirona



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky's a little slow on the uptake, M/M, Steve is not as innocent as everyone supposes, Steve is so done with subtlety, Tumblr ficlet, UST, meddling avengers, possible slight crack, post-Cap 2, undercover as husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scene: some random Steve/Bucky undercover-as-husbands AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which dinner is prepared—or at least started.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old tumblr ficlet i'd forgotten to crosspost. Done so because I am slightly OCD about these things.

Bucky kicks the door shut behind him, feeling his shoulders slump in relief. Home. ...Even if it's a temporary home while away on a mission with your bff that you're pretending to be married to. (Bucky doesn't know which part is stranger: that he has to pretend to be in love with someone he is actually secretly in love with, or that married undercover missions are his life now.)

"Hey," he says loudly, heading towards the kitchen. "I'm back. You won't believe what the couple in 96B are up to, I was sure I was gonna blow my cover--"

He turns the corner, and freezes in his tracks.

Steve is at the kitchen island, making dinner that apparently involves carrots, because--well, because he is holding a thick orange carrot in one hand and...basically giving it a hand-job with the other.

He is wearing some kind of [thick abrasive glove](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61b9mD-Cc6L._SY300_.jpg), stroking the carrot from all angles, huge hand wrapping all the way around it, so that one end keeps peeking through Steve's fingers on the downslide. 

"Hey," Steve says easily. He's probably smiling, though Bucky has NO clue about that because he cannot look away from his hands. Steve reverses his hold, pushing the carrot through the circle made by his thumb and forefingers and the tunnel of the rest of his fingers closing around the length, and Bucky's entire body flushes to life, hips tingling with the increased bloodflow. 

The obscene fondling stops when Steve places the presumably pealed carrot next to the chopping board and dusts the skin off the glove over the sink. 

"You okay?" he says, before reaching for another unpeeled carrot. There are five more lined up by the chopping board.

How is Bucky to survive this??

"Buck," Steve says. His hands pause.

"Huh?" Bucky grunts, then swallows thickly. Jesus Christ, someone up there must really hate him.

He is forced to look up when Steve's hands remain motionless and he leans forward. Bucky's eyes drag along Steve's stomach, his chest, then take in his face, a little flushed but genuinely concerned.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bucky manages through throat gone dry as the desert sands.

Steve lifts both his eyebrows, then moves again, picking up the offending vegetable and starting to stroke along it, fingers gripping tight. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he counters.

Bucky chokes on his own spit. 

"You don't want me to answer that, buddy," he croaks, once he has finished coughing.

There's a strangled noise from Steve. When Bucky looks up, he sees that Steve's cheeks have gone fetchingly red, and he's biting his lip.

"Well, it's not like I'm unfamiliar with this kinda move," he says dryly. "Shouldn't think you'd be, either."

Bucky's mouth opens and closes a few times; he feels like all the air got sucked out of the room. What is Steve saying?

"Granted, I don't usually let other people see me making it," Steve adds, and it all comes slamming into Bucky's hand, what Steve is talking about, the visual that goes with the words, and fuck.

"Yeah, uh," he says, pausing to swallow again. "I'm just gonna--shower. Cold shower. You keep up--whatever you're doing."

He's about to make good his escape, when he realises something. 

Steve is smirking.

The fucker is smirking. He knows exactly what he's doing. Knows what Bucky was thinking about, too.

And he's still doing it.

"Is this--" Bucky blurts, turning back around. "Rogers, are you trying to seduce me?" Because surely not. Just thinking it is plunging into dangerous territory, the road littered with spikes and booby-traps. 

Steve, if possible, goes even redder. His blue eyes dart Bucky a look from under his long dark-blond eyelashes, and look away again. 

"Uh," Steve says, throat bobbing as it swallows. His hands haven't stopped moving, Bucky notices in a daze; they still stroke against that damn carrot, a little slower and more exaggerated than before, and now that Bucky has seen that, he cannot unsee. Cannot stop imagining what else Steve might be holding. 

God, he wants to see that.

He moves closer to the island, close enough to notice Steve's breath hitch and come faster, until his shoulders are visibly moving with it. Steve's hands shake, and he stops jerking the carrot off in favour of concentrating on him. It makes warmth bloom in Bucky's chest, to have Steve's attention. It makes him feel good, important, wanted.

He reaches forward, curls his fingers in Steve's t-shirt, and yanks him forward, until he's near enough that Bucky only has to go up on his toes to kiss the living daylights out of the infuriating man.

Steve moans and sways into the kiss, opens his mouth and lets Bucky inside without the slightest hesitation. There is a thump when the carrot falls from his lax fingers, and then Bucky is pressing him backwards against the island and trying his best to climb him like a damn tree. A hand fits itself to his ass, hauling him upwards and in until their faces are level and Bucky's knee slips between Steve's bent, widened legs.

Bucky moans into his mouth like he's dying, and fists one hand in Steve's hair, basically doing nothing less than trying to eat out his mouth.

("Hand it over, Stark," Sam says when they see the footage, before Coulson stomps in and switches it off with a pointed glare. "Told ya the gloves'll do it.")


End file.
